


Watch Me Bare My Claws

by Bedalk05



Series: Geralt Deserves Soft Things [8]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24414568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bedalk05/pseuds/Bedalk05
Summary: Geralt releases a displeased rumble when the couple from earlier begin to make their way to them. The woman has blonde hair pinned up in an elaborate braid, the beauty of her flowing golden gown undermined by her frosty sneer. Beside her strides a man whose lean frame and piercing blue eyes look vaguely familiar, almost like-oh fuck. It can’t be.Jaskier and Geralt run into unexpected guests at a betrothal feast. Maybe they shouldstopaccepting invites to betrothal feasts.**Can be read as a stand alone or as part of a series**
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geralt Deserves Soft Things [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742950
Comments: 68
Kudos: 933
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	Watch Me Bare My Claws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Superherogeek1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superherogeek1/gifts), [DarkInuFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkInuFan/gifts).



> This is gifted to Superherogeek1 for the idea of meeting Jaskier's bio dad and his wife and DarkInuFan for the idea I started playing with in chapter 7 of my last fic. If Marya is a badass with a sword and bow, surely she taught her son to be as well!

Geralt has reached a new low. He is once again dressed in what Mousesack once aptly described as a "sad silk trader's" outfit stuck at another betrothal feast. The worst part? Jaskier didn’t even need to bribe or convince him to come this time. He didn’t even have to _ask._ The bard simply mentioned offhandedly that he was invited to play and Geralt grunted that he would tag along. 

What the fuck? Is this what love does to people? That's some fucking bullshit. 

As he watches Jaskier dance and flirt his way through the court, Geralt frowns. It took Geralt a few years to decipher between Jaskier’s stage persona and genuine personality because they do overlap quite a bit, but he is clearly wearing the former.

Geralt still remembers the first time Jaskier shot him a _real_ smile and not what he thought Geralt wanted to see. It was small, simple. Geralt had simply noticed that Jaskier’s lute strings were fraying so he bought a new set. As they readied for bed Geralt shoved them into Jaskier’s hands without a word and after staring at them for a nerve-racking moment, Jaskier looked up. 

The smile started slow before blooming until it lit up Jaskier’s entire being. It was the most beautiful fucking thing Geralt had ever seen. 

In retrospect Geralt probably should have realized he was in love with the bard a lot sooner. 

But the past doesn’t matter because he _is_ in love and better yet Jaskier knows and for some godsforsaken reason loves Geralt too. 

Geralt hums. Throughout the night some nobleman has been prattling into Geralt’s ear but he hasn’t been listening. His experience has proven that if he hums every so often most people assume that he’s riveted to the conversation. But Geralt’s attention is consumed by something else entirely. Or, someone else he should say. 

Almost like he could sense Geralt’s focus on him, Jaskier shoots him a genuine grin and wink before whirling away. It’s only because Geralt is watching the bard so closely that he catches the slight stiffening of his shoulders when Jaskier turns back to the opposite end of the hall. Following where the shifter’s gaze must have landed, Geralt’s hackles raise at the glare that can only be described as venomous coming from a couple seated together. 

Clenching his fist, Geralt has to fight the temptation to grasp for his sword. Instead, Geralt leans forward, tension brimming throughout his body as he follows Jaskier’s every movement for any signs of his discomfort rising. He won't hear the end of it if Geralt interrupts the bard's performance unless it's clear Jaskier wants an out. 

The witcher only relaxes minutely when, after another hour, Jaskier settles beside Geralt with a sigh before snagging and chugging the witcher’s ale. Rolling his eyes at Geralt’s growl, Jaskier subtly shifts so he can furtively scent Geralt, releasing a happy rumble as he does. His irritation at his stolen drink fades and is replaced with a certain amount of smugness at the action, and Geralt quickly returns the gesture. Geralt frowns though at the faint aroma of unease wafting from the mixture of sweat and joy effusing from Jaskier. 

At Geralt’s questioning glance however, Jaskier simply shakes his head. Quietly growling, Geralt shifts himself until their thighs are pressed against each other. Fine, Jaskier doesn’t want to make a scene. But Geralt isn’t leaving his fucking side until he figures out what’s wrong. 

Geralt releases a displeased rumble when the couple from earlier begin to make their way toward them. The woman has blonde hair pinned up in an elaborate braid, the beauty of her flowing golden gown undermined by her frosty sneer. Beside her strides a man whose lean frame and piercing blue eyes look vaguely familiar, almost like-oh fuck. It can’t be. 

“Julian,” the woman sniffs, as the pair reach where Jaskier is now sitting rigidly beside Geralt. Fuck not making a scene. Glaring at them, Geralt wraps a solid arm around Jaskier, firmly tugging the bard to his side. Jaskier doesn’t acknowledge him, gazing calmly at the couple before them. 

“Augusta. Edmund. I’d say it’s a pleasure but that would be lying,” Jaskier says blithely. 

Edmund’s impassive expression hardens. “Julian, that is no way to talk to your parents,” he admonishes in a tone that is clearly used to being obeyed. 

Interesting. When Marya calls him Julian it flows off her tongue like a song but with this man he says the name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. _Please give me a reason to punch you,_ Geralt thinks, the hand not stroking along Jaskier’s arm curling into a fist. 

Geralt has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smirking at the exaggerated look of shock crossing Jaskier’s face. “Parents? My apologies, I always assumed parents were people who support your endeavors and love you unconditionally.” Turning a piercing gaze towards Augusta he adds coldly, “Besides, I recently learned who my _real_ mother is. Thanks for keeping that from me all my life, by the way.” 

“That fucking bitch,” Augusta hisses. 

Jumping to his feet, Jaskier clenches his hands into fists as he vibrates from restrained fury. 

“Take that back,” Jaskier grits out. 

“Now Julian, there’s no reason to make a scene," Edmund snaps. "Haven’t you made a large enough stir as it is by bringing this-this _monster_ along?” 

_Oh no._ Geralt mentally groans as he slowly stands. He knows that look. It always precedes Jaskier doing something incredibly impulsive and dumb. 

Jaskier laughs. It’s brittle and causes gooseflesh to pepper along Geralt’s arms. “Monster,” Jaskier spits. “Well, I hate to break it to you _father_ but you lived with a monster for 18 years!” 

Oh Jaskier. Geralt reaches out to stop him but it’s too late. Where a bard once stood now growls a giant russet-colored wolf. Fuck. _Must_ he be the most dramatic one in every room he enters? 

Despite the idiotic move, Geralt can’t help release a satisfied huff at the twin looks of shock and horror gracing the pair’s face. That feeling disappears abruptly when Edmund turns to Geralt. “Quick Butcher-kill it!” he snarls. 

Geralt draws himself to his full height until he’s looming over the cowering man. “I’m sorry,” he remarks good-naturedly. “But us monsters like to stick together.” And with that, he finally gives into his urge and punches the pompous asshole. 

As the duke who had hired Jaskier frantically calls for guards, Geralt releases an annoyed sigh. “C’mon Jaskier, let’s get the fuck outta here,” Geralt grumbles, scooping up Jaskier’s clothes and lute. And studiously ignoring the countless gaping mouths staring at them, Geralt strides out of the court with as much dignity as a man carrying a pile of clothes beside a wolf can muster. 

Unfortunately, one feral growl from the wolf discourages the guards from charging. Too bad. Geralt could have used an excuse to blow off some steam.

They walk in silence as they collect Roach and briskly make their way out of the town. No use hanging around now. 

It’s not until they’ve made camp outside of the village, Geralt working on a fire as Jaskier dresses, that the silence breaks. “Don’t say it,” Jaskier mutters. 

Geralt pauses to glance at the bard as he finishes throwing on a log. He swallows the lecture he had prepared as Geralt takes in Jaskier’s slumped shoulders and glum expression. 

Fuck. Settling against their packs, Geralt opens his arms, breathing a sigh of relief that he made the right choice when Jaskier throws himself into the embrace. Nuzzling the nape of Jaskier’s neck, Geralt releases a happy huff as he breathes in Jaskier’s familiar honey and pine scent. The burnt scent of sorrow lingers however, causing Geralt to squeeze him tighter. 

“Wanna talk about it?” he rumbles, releasing a worried whine as tears begin to slide down Jaskier’s face. Geralt turns himself so they’re face to face and Jaskier is safely enclosed in Geralt’s thighs. Kissing where the shifter’s tears flow down his cheeks, Geralt begins rubbing soothing circles along his legs and arms. It’s for them both. 

With every touch and kiss Geralt forces himself to breathe through the fury threatening to overtake him. He desperately wants to march back to the banquet so he can shake those snakes until they realize the wonderful creature they’re chasing off. But Jaskier needs him here. So here he will stay. 

“It’s foolish,” Jaskier finally sniffs, not so discreetly wiping his nose on Geralt’s shirt. 

“No it’s not little wolf,” Geralt murmurs into his hair, wrapping his arms back around the bard. “They’re supposed to be your family. Even _I_ know families aren’t supposed to talk to each other like that.” 

With a trembling sigh, Jaskier relaxes into Geralt’s arms, burying his face back into the witcher’s shoulder. “In their defense I wasn’t the most cordial,” Jaskier offers, voice cracking. Geralt’s arms tighten around the shifter. “It’s just-I haven’t seen them since they told me not to return home if I was intent on pursuing a career as a traveling bard. And then finding out that Marya is my real mom and they forced her to keep that from me-I’m just so _angry.”_

Geralt hums, scrambling for the right words. Fuck why can’t Vesemir or Eskel or hell even _Lambert_ be here? They would know what to say right now. Vesemir would say something wise about found family and Eskel would quote some obscure literary passage about love and Lambert would probably insult their wardrobe. 

But Geralt isn’t good at words. Grappling for something to say, Geralt lands on an alternate option. “Wanna get out your anger then?” he finally offers. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this my love but I’m really not in the mood for sex,” Jaskier sniffs. 

Huffing out a laugh, Geralt nuzzles Jaskier’s ear. “I was actually thinking about sparring?” 

Jaskier raises his head, revealing red-rimmed eyes and a glimmer of interest. With Jaskier's shifter strength and training from Marya, they're well matched. And ever since Jaskier cut himself with his dagger out of exasperation at how tentative Geralt had been with him to show how quickly the shifter heals, sparring together has rapidly become one of their favorite pastimes. 

A watery smile cracks across Jaskier’s face. “I could use that,” he rasps. Throwing his arms around Geralt Jaskier mumbles, “Thank you.” 

Geralt furrows his brow. Instead of actually comforting his mate with words he’s suggesting that they _fight._ There’s nothing to be thanked for that. “For what?” he can't help asking.

Pulling away so he can press a gentle kiss to his lips Jaskier whispers, “For being you.” Geralt’s breath catches in his throat at the simple statement, heart clenching painfully. Damn this man, making him breathless with only three words. 

Smiling bitterly Jaskier adds, “And for not murdering them.” Tweaking Geralt’s nose he remarks with a glimmer in his eye, “As unpleasant as this whole experience was, I don’t have another Continent-wide hit prepared to fix your reputation again.” Snorting, Geralt unceremoniously dumps the love of his life onto the ground before unsheathing his sword. 

After the usual sputtering and emphatic protestations that come whenever Geralt does something like that, Jaskier grumbles as he grabs the sword the witcher gave him at the end of winter. Sleek and light, it’s more elegant and slightly shorter than a witcher’s, accommodating Jaskier’s tendency to move lightly and quickly when he fights. A blue gem shines off the handle, an embellishment Geralt couldn’t stop himself from requesting. His bard deserves pretty things. 

As they settle into their usual positions, Geralt allows a feral grin to cross his face at the fierce glint in Jaskier’s eye. Yes, words may be useful but sometimes raw emotions call for a rawer way of talking. And Geralt loves talking to Jaskier. 


End file.
